Winds of the Past
by hel1234
Summary: "He's dead." Harry said to himself. "He's dead, and nothing you can do will bring him back..." But it was Harry's fault he would never come back. Sirius may have died but something about his past still lives on, and Harry chooses to descover it...
1. Default Chapter

Chapter 1  
  
"Well you know your problem, Harry?" Hermione said, scathingly. Her eyes were flaming and you could almost feel the heat rising from her as she shook with suppressed anger. Harry stared back at her, the same anger emitting from him.  
"What's that?" he spat.  
"You just don't understand that there are consequences for your actions. You never think, and you're - well, you're an idiot." She finished lamely. Harry was letting out some of the anger he had been bottling up for a long time, and he didn't care how much he hurt Hermione now. What she did was totally unfair.  
"Oh, and I suppose you never do anything wrong!" Harry retorted spitefully.  
"Perfect-Miss-Granger, never puts a toe out of line and always messes up her friends' lives! Give it a rest, Hermione, you've done enough damage already!" Hermione looked knocked back for a moment, but then glared at Harry, closed to tears.  
"If I hadn't told McGonagall, then you would be in serious trouble -"  
"I am in serious trouble!" Harry yelled, enraged. Hermione stood forward, and straightened up.  
"You would have been expelled, you know Malfoy's father, it would have been the biggest mistake you ever made -"  
"Making friends with you was the biggest mistake I ever made!" Harry snarled, but as soon as he had said it, he wished he hadn't. Hermione's eyes widened a little, she clapped a hand to her mouth and her eyes filled with tears. She had never looked more hurt. She grabbed her bag and as she ran, books fell out but she didn't stop to pick them up; she just ran, without stopping, all the way to the girls dormitories.  
Harry looked around. The common room seemed deserted, nobody was around and the only sound he heard was the soft crackling of the fire. He slumped into Hermione's usual chair and buried his face in his hands.  
"That was mean, Harry." Said a quiet voice from behind him. He looked up and saw Ron standing a few feet from him. He was sure no one had been in there.  
"Where'd you come from?" asked Harry in a surprised voice. Ron pointed at the shadow by the portrait-hole, and then looked back at Harry.  
"Didn't want to interrupt." He said. Harry nodded, and returned his gaze to the fire, where the flames licked the walls of the fireplace. Ron sat down in the chair opposite Harry and sighed.  
"So what happened?" Harry launched into the story of the evenings events. First, how he had met Malfoy in the Entrance Hall and how Malfoy had taunted him about Sirius, about Sirius' death. Then, how he, Harry, had been about to curse Malfoy when Hermione turned up with McGonagall and how Hermione had told her that Harry had been about to do something stupid. And finally, how he had been given a week's detention and fifty points had been taken from Gryffindor. Ron listened intently and didn't interrupt him.  
"I mean, it's not the detentions or the points that bother me, it's her." Harry said, heatedly.  
"She's supposed to be my friend, not a sneak that goes off and gets a teacher whenever I do anything wrong! Anyway, Malfoy would have deserved what he got!" Ron nodded.  
"Yeah, he would have, stupid little git." He added. Harry stared into the flames. His anger at Malfoy had never been greater at that moment in the Entrance Hall. He would have blasted the slimy bit of scum into a thousand pieces if McGonagall hadn't turned up. How dare he talk about Sirius.How dare he mock him.  
"But you didn't really mean what you said to Hermione, did you?" Ron asked timidly. Harry tore his eyes away from the flames that seemed to reflect his anger perfectly, and looked at Ron. His face slackened.  
"Of course I didn't. Its just she.well - she just goes a bit too far sometimes." Ron let out a long groan.  
"Harry, mate, don't I know it." He clapped Harry on the shoulder, and got up. Harry got up too, smiling weakly. They made their way over to the staircase and up to the boy's dormitories. And as Harry got into bed, Ron asked,  
"So, are you going to say sorry in the morning?" Harry fell back onto his pillows.  
"Yeah, I suppose. Reckon she'll forgive me?" Ron yawned and pulled back his hangings.  
"No doubt about it." A few minutes later, Harry heard Ron's snoring. If only he could fall asleep so easily. He knew why he couldn't sleep. Sirius. Malfoy's words rang through his head:  
"My father told me all about it, Potter, all about your godfather. If only you hadn't been such an idiot, maybe the ugly brute would still be alive!" and then: "Do you miss him, Potter? Wasn't much of a fighter was he? No one else died, just Black and a couple of golden statues."  
Malfoy was half right. If it hadn't been for Harry, Sirius would still be alive. Harry buried his face in his pillow, smothering the cry of rage and helplessness he wanted to scream. He turned over and stared into the darkness; a face appeared there, Sirius' face, smiling at him. Harry stared at the face until it was no more than a blur, then he wiped his face on the sheets.  
  
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Reviews please!!! 


	2. Apology and a visit

Harry awoke the next morning with a very bad headache. He got out of bed and dressed quickly, avoiding speaking to anyone else in the dormitory, then went down to the Great Hall for breakfast.  
The Great Hall was empty except for a few people sat on the Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables. He sat down and stared at the stack of toast in front of him. He didn't intend to eat anything; he just wanted to be alone for a while, to think about what he should say to Hermione, and to work out a way of controlling his anger when around Malfoy. He hated thinking about Malfoy, and about what he had said about Sirius, but he kept popping into his head and dancing around his mind.  
After about half an hour, Harry decided he needed the toilet. He left the Great Hall and hastily walked over to the boy's bathroom beside the tapestry of Boris the Bewildered. As he walked across the bathroom, he caught his reflection in the mirror, and turned to look. His hair stood as messy as it always was, and jet-black upon his head. His eyes were emerald green and as the light caught them, they twinkled slightly. He leaned closer to the mirror and noticed with surprise that they looked slightly worn, and faded.  
He knew why. Ever since he had seen Lord Voldemort rise from a large stone cauldron in a haze of white mist almost two years ago, they had looked that way. But since the death of Sirius, the lines under his eyes had grown darker, and more prominent. He had grown taller since he had last seen his reflection, and thinner, but that was hardly surprising. He was sixteen years old after all.  
As he crossed the Entrance Hall he noticed a girl with bushy brown hair walking in front of him.  
"Hermione!" he called, and, running, he caught up with her. She turned to look at him and Harry saw that her eyes were red and there were lines of tiredness under them too. She stared at him, as though she couldn't work out whether to hit him or break down and cry.  
"Hermione, I just want to say -" Harry began, but he was cut off by a voice calling his name. He looked around and saw a nervous, fifth-year Ravenclaw, who looked very out of breath.  
"Harry Potter?" the fifth-year asked Harry. Harry nodded, puzzled. The boy smiled timidly.  
"You have to come with me." He said in a nervous voice. Harry frowned.  
"Wha -" he began.  
"Professor Dumbledore want's to see you." He explained. Harry wondered why Dumbledore wanted to see him, and looked at the boy and then at Hermione. He still hadn't apologized.  
"Look, I just wanted to say I'm really sorry." He said to Hermione in a low voice. He couldn't read the expression on her face.  
"What I said was really mean, and I really didn't mean it. I'm just really sorry." He finished looking at the floor. Without warning, Hermione dropped her bag and flung her arms around Harry's neck, sobbing. Harry patted her on the back awkwardly and then she pulled away.  
"I'm sorry, Harry, you know what Malfoy's like. I just didn't want you getting into trouble. Th-that's all." She wiped her eyes. And Harry grinned at her apologetically.  
"I know. It's just Malfoy mentioned Siri - it doesn't matter." Harry broke off quickly. Hermione's eyes filled with fresh tears.  
"Oh, Harry!" she said angrily, but with sadness too.  
"You can talk about him you know! Why do you keep avoiding the subject? I know you miss him so much, so why don't you talk to us about him?" She looked at Harry through glazed eyes with a mixture of desperation and sympathy. Harry didn't know what to say. He could feel the burning sensation returning to his throat and he avoided Hermione's eyes.  
He looked up at the fifth-year boy, who looked startled by Hermione's crying, and nodded at him. He looked at Hermione and muttered a quick goodbye, and started walking with the boy. Harry noticed the boy shooting him nervous glances but ignored him. When they arrived at the stone gargoyle outside Dumbledore's office, the boy gave the password and murmured 'good luck' to Harry, then walked back down the corridor and out of sight. Harry took a deep breath and made his way up to Dumbledore's office. 


	3. The Chest

He pushed open the handsome oak door, and walked hesitantly in. Dumbledore was  
  
sat at his desk and looked up as Harry walked in. He smiled a smile that warmed his  
  
face, but did not hide the lines etched into it. He was very old, Harry thought as he  
  
surveyed the kind face, he looked older, but still.  
  
"Harry!" he said, his smile still in place. He stood up slowly, and pointed to  
  
the chair opposite his desk. Harry walked over and sat down, still wondering why he was there. Dumbledore was staring at him as he sat down in his chair, and Harry knew this, but didn't look up. Harry always had the impression that Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes could see further than just his appearance; he felt that they looked into his very soul. Finally, Harry looked up and looked into those soulful eyes.  
"You wanted to see me, Professor." He said expectantly. Dumbledore smiled once more and entwined his fingers.  
"Yes, Harry." He answered lightly. There was something strange about his voice, as though he was holding something back. Dumbledore stared into the bright green eyes of the boy in front of him and thought to himself; why? Why had this boy been put through so many nightmares? Why was he still here to tell the tale? Why had he suffered so much? Sadness rushed through Dumbledore as he looked at Harry; he had no one, Harry had no one to love him and care for him when he needed them most, his mother and father gone, Sirius gone.the Dursleys were more his prison guards than his relatives.  
"Firstly, I wanted to ask you how you were." He said kindly but with firmness detectable. Harry didn't know what to say. How did he feel? There wasn't one word in the dictionary that described how he felt right now. Such a sadness and helplessness he had never felt before had swooped over him since Sirius' death. His soul felt so heavy, he was sure that it would break in two sometime soon. And more, much more, he felt anger; as though pure venom was poisoning his mind, he felt anger stronger than any he had ever known. Voldemort, he snarled to himself. Lord Voldemort. He was the one who had ripped all the happiness from Harry's life; he was the one who had caused Harry so much pain and anguish; he was the one who was destined to kill Harry, or be murdered by Harry in the end. It was all set. It was written in the stars.  
"Fine." Said Harry, telling such a lie that he didn't know whether it was clear or not. Dumbledore stared at Harry for a moment, then he looked down at the floor, and spoke.  
"I know how you suffer, Harry." He said, in a low, sad voice. He returned his gaze to Harry.  
"I have seen you suffer ever since you were found on your aunt and uncle's doorstep fifteen years ago. You have shown bravery and courage beyond anyone's expectations of you, and still you suffer day, by day. How are you coping with Sirius' death, Harry?" he asked, concern showing in every line of his face. Harry looked at the floor. How do you think? He retorted angrily to himself.  
"I'm dealing with it." Harry said quietly. He certainly was not dealing with it; he was drowning in it. Dumbledore sighed.  
"I know there is nothing I can say to comfort you." He said sympathetically.  
"But I can say that I know that Sirius would not want you to dwell over him, Harry. He was very important to you, and you were also very important to him. He broke out of Azkaban to protect you, and he died protecting you; he would not want to see you like this." Dumbledore's words seemed to clear Harry's head slightly, and he nodded. The tingling, burning sensation was back in his throat as he tried to talk.  
"Its just - its just that I miss him." Harry croaked, now aware of his slowly misting eyes. He quickly raised a hand to his face and wiped his eyes. Dumbledore was looking at him as if he was a lost child. Harry did feel lost. He had never felt more lost or lonely in his whole life.  
"So do all who lose someone close to them." Dumbledore soothed.  
"But try to remember Harry, the dead we have loved will never truly leave us, and I am sure that Sirius, who made such a great impact on your life, will never truly leave you." Harry felt very grateful to Dumbledore, for the words he had just said had lifted his heavy soul up a little. He smiled weakly and replied,  
"Yeah, you're right." He was so right. At this moment, Dumbledore rose from his chair and walked over to a shelf beside the window, where rays of the early sun were beginning to haze through the window and bathe Dumbledore's desk in golden light. Dumbledore had picked up what looked like a small chest made of fine willow. It had delicate and magnificent patterns along the sides, and looked mysterious as it shone for a brief moment in the sunlight, as Dumbledore walked back to his desk.  
He laid the strange chest in front of Harry, and sat down.  
"Now, Harry," he said.  
"The main reason I have summoned you to my office this morning." He placed thin hands upon the chest, and looked up at Harry. There was a silence. Harry wondered if Dumbledore expected him to recognize the chest, or say something about it.  
"Er," he said stupidly, still wondering what on earth the chest was, and still eager to know the answer.  
"Professor Dumbledore, what is that?" Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled as he smiled. He turned the chest to face him, and undid the latch, opening the chest. He turned it towards Harry, and Harry leant forward and looked into the chest. A photograph of two wizards, smiling and laughing, lay on the top of an assortment objects. Harry recognized the two happy faces in the picture immediately; the man on the right was tall and had a mop of untidy jet-black hair and hazel eyes. He looked young; Harry thought as he gazed at the laughing, happy face of his father, maybe he was in his twenties. On the left he saw the handsome, charming face of Sirius, young and healthy, and without the dead look Azkaban had given him.  
Harry picked the photo up with trembling fingers and smiled; he smiled as he had not done in months. For the first time since Sirius had died, he felt that he was accepting that he had really died, and it felt warm looking down at the laughing face of his godfather, arm around his father. He looked back into the chest and realised that all these things must be Sirius' belongings. He looked up at Dumbledore, who looked very happy at Harry's smiling face.  
"Are these Sirius' things?" he asked.  
"Yes." Said Dumbledore, then, leaning forward, he spoke again, in a more grave voice,  
"As Sirius' closest relative, they have been left to you, and I am sure Sirius would have wanted you to have them. I expect you shall want to have a look through them. I have not looked at them myself. They are yours, Harry, I am just sorry Sirius isn't here to give them to give them to you himself." he sighed sadly. Then, he stood up, picked up the chest, and walked over to where Harry was sitting. Harry stood up. Dumbledore passed him the chest, and Harry took it. He looked at it for a moment then looked back at Dumbledore.  
"Thanks." he said, smiling. Dumbledore looked for a moment as though he was going to hug Harry. But he laid a hand on Harry's shoulder and said softly,  
"Sirius was very proud of you, Harry. He considered you to be the most important thing in the world to him. Keep that smile on your face, and you'll feel better soon." His blue eyes twinkled, and Harry understood. He walked over to the door, and then turned.  
"Thanks again..for everything." Harry left, holding the chest under his arm. Little did he know that that chest he was carrying held secrets from long ago that had been hidden, and forgotten. Little did he know that the past was slowly creeping up on him. 


	4. The key and the clue

At dinner, that evening, Harry sat with Ron and Hermione and they discussed what the conditions would be like for the next Quidditch Match, which would be on the following Saturday against Ravenclaw. Harry hadn't told either of them about the chest, he felt that first he had to look at it himself; Sirius had left it to him after all.  
"There's something different about you tonight, Harry." Ron said, grinning at him strangely. Harry grinned too, and laughed.  
"You seem much more.much more." Hermione touched his hand warmly, and he looked up at her. She was smiling.  
"Happy." She finished Ron's sentence for him. Harry looked at her for a moment, and then she took her hand away, still smiling. He looked from one to the other and smiled; yes, he was happier, a lot happier. He looked up at the staff table and Dumbledore was looking at him, Harry nodded his head and grinned, remembering Dumbledore's words: "Keep smiling and you'll feel much better." He was right.  
Harry made his way up to the Gryffindor Common Room alone that night, after a long pep talk from Angelina Johnson about the forthcoming Quidditch match. He had left Ron when Angelina had said she needed to have a quick chat about his goal keeping tactics. Harry and Ron both knew that a "quick chat" in Angela's words, was always a long lecture. Ron had groaned and said Harry could go on up. Harry was quite grateful to Angelina; it meant that he could have a look in the chest before Ron came up to bed.  
The dormitory was empty; nearly everyone was in the Common Room, playing Exploding Snap, or talking and laughing with friends. Harry walked swiftly over to his bed and knelt down beside it. There it was. Its smooth willow frame with the pretty patterns was clearer close up, and they gleamed in the lamp light magnificently. Harry pulled it from beneath his bed swiftly, and laid it on the bed. With trembling fingers he undid the latches and then opened the chest, revealing the objects inside. There were his father and godfather, smiling and waving at him, no older than twenty. Harry took the picture and looked at it; he looked at it for a long time. He let his finger run over the smooth bit of photo where his father's face was and he recognised the likeness between his father and himself. He put the photo down next to him, and looked at the rest of the objects.  
At the side of the box he noticed a mirror. Harry pulled it out and recognised it as the twin of the mirror he had given Harry when he returned to Hogwarts in his fifth year. Harry turned it over, and over, wondering if he still had the pieces of his own, and then put it with the photo. Next, he picked up a small leather pouch and undid the strings around the neck. He tipped it upside down and about a dozen small, glinting objects fell onto the bed. Harry looked closer and saw, with surprise that they were rings. He picked up one and saw a shining emerald gleaming in the centre, and an incredibly detailed snake curling around it. Harry recognised these rings as the rings Sirius had found in number twelve, Grimmauld Place when he was sorting through all of the things in his old family home. Harry thought Sirius had got rid of these rings, but as he looked at more of them, he saw some he didn't recognise, for example, one had Sirius' name engraved on the side; a very handsome ring, with small rubies spread over it.  
There were other small objects like a handsome eagle feathered quill, a photo album half-full, a piece of parchment with an account number on it; Harry guessed that this was the number of Sirius' vault at Gringotts. He shifted a few things around and unearthed a dusty, thick envelope. He turned it over and saw the name Sirius written in scarlet ink on the front. Harry opened the envelope slowly, and felt inside. He felt something long and cold, and a piece of folded parchment; he pulled out the parchment and unfolded it. He read:  
  
"Dear Sirius,  
My dear brother, my time is short and I will not pretend that I do not fear the Dark Lord's wrath. I received certain information last month about a passage, an underground passage. Under our home, under 12, Grimmauld Place, there's a passage and it holds great things. I cannot say what, I do not know, but go there, Sirius, I have enclosed the key. It has something to do with Voldemort, and something to do with your side, wizards like you and James, Dumbledore knows what it is. Do not tell mother and father. If the Dark Lord finds these great things it could mean doom. I am scared Sirius. I wish I had never joined the Dark Order. But what's done is done, and I'm going to lay low for a while.  
Farewell, and do not tell anyone.  
Your brother,  
Regulus Black."  
  
Harry felt a surge of excitement run through him. Regulus Black; Sirius' brother. But he was dead; Sirius had told Harry last year, he had been killed by Voldemort. A secret passage, great things inside, and right under the Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix! Harry reached once more into the envelope and pulled out a rusty, long key. He read and re-read the letter over and over again; had Sirius ever seen this letter? Had he ignored it? He had never shown any signs of liking his brother but surely he wouldn't have ignored him.  
Harry put all of the things back into the chest and looked for a moment at the picture of his father and Sirius.  
"Did you ever know?" he whispered to Sirius. But Sirius was silently levitating a bucket of water over James's head, winking at Harry. Harry sighed and put the photo back into the chest too. He put it back under his bed and fell back onto his pillows thinking of the mysterious key and the adventure he was going to have this year.  
  
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R/R please!! I would really appreciate it!! 


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